Fealty
by Wyrmseeker
Summary: Piecing together the past to try and make sense of her present, one wyvern rider decides to seek answers from another.


When Heath heard the knock at his door, his first instinct, as it had been for the past several years, was to make sure he had his sword at his side. He was a mercenary now, and more often than not, visitors were either people that needed his services or old friends looking to catch up—the pegasus sisters, especially, stopped by frequently. But he did have enemies out there, left over from days long past, and he wanted to be sure he could defend his family if the need arose.

Once he had confirmed that the blade was secure at his waist, he rose from his seat and opened the door. He was surprised to find a young woman standing there; he figured she was about the age he had been during the Dragon's Gate conflict, so many years ago. She wore red armor that matched her hair over violet clothing, and had a lance slung across her back. Her brown eyes fixed on him intently.

She spoke first. "Are you Heath?"

He simply nodded.

The girl smiled, relieved. "Thank Elimine. I thought I'd never find you." Her arms were wrapped around her body, and she gave the slightest hint of a shiver. "May I come in? It's... much colder out here than I had expected."

Heath returned her smile. "Of course." He stood aside, glancing out as she hurried in beside him. "It's a good thing you got here when you did. It looks like a snowstorm's about to start."

He shut the door against the increasingly powerful wind, bolted it shut, and threw another log on the fire he used to heat his home in such times. The girl found her way to a seat in the middle of the room, across from Heath's own.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked, sitting down.

"I have need of your services." She was looking around the cottage, taking it in, but still focusing on the wyvern rider sitting across from her.

Heath was somewhat bothered by her demeanor, starting with the fact that she hadn't offered her name yet. Still, he sat back in his chair."What for?"

She bit her lip. "It's something of a long story... I hate to impose, but do you have anything I could drink? It's been a long journey."

"I'll get some cider," Heath said, rising. "It'll warm you right up, I promise. My wife made it." He went to the cupboard, retrieved the cider, and set it near the fire to heat it up. While he was up, he looked out the window, noticing that the wind had indeed picked up and was now blowing snow into the air. It wasn't too bad, but it did limit visibility, and the girl wasn't exactly dressed for prolonged exposure to the cold.

Suddenly, he saw something moving through the blowing snow. Peering closer, he made out the outline of a wyvern, and smiled to himself. Hyperion had stayed with him all these years, even after moving to the frozen lands of Ilia, and had served him faithfully in his mercenary pursuits. The wyvern was one of his closest friends, and he hoped he would be around for many years to come.

But there were a few other things about the figure outside that made Heath uneasy. For one thing, Hyperion had a stable, one he shared with his owner's wife's pegasus, and would definitely take shelter in it if a storm came, no matter how mild. For another, he was brown, and as Heath peered closer at the beast out in the snow now, he saw it was more violet than anything.

"Nice wyvern," he said.

By the time the girl realized what he was saying and put her hand to her lance, Heath's blade was already drawn and pressed gently against her throat. All was still for a moment as the two wyvern riders faced off.

"Drop it," he commanded.

The girl stared him right in the eye, and for a moment, he thought she might strike; instead, though, she slowly moved her hand away from the lance hilt, and undid the straps holding it to her. The weapon clattered to the floor. She then slowly put her hands over her head.

"Look," she said, "I'm not who you think I am."

"You're _exactly_ who I think you are," he responded, eyes narrowing. "You're a wyvern rider—a knight of Bern."

"Yes," she said warily, "I am. But I'm not here for you. I mean—I'm not here to hurt you, or take you in."

He wavered, but only for a moment; his blade was still steadied against her neck. "Then why don't you explain to me why you _are_ here?"

"Put the sword down," she said calmly, "and I'll tell you everything."

"Go ahead, Heath," a new voice came into the room. "I've got her covered."

They both turned suddenly at the sound, and spotted Heath's wife standing in the doorway of an adjoining room. One arm held their crying newborn son; the other was pointing a wicked-looking blade at the girl.

Heath smiled. "I think I can handle this, my love."

"Just like you 'handled' that skirmish near the Etrurian border? I think not, dear."

He sighed. "I told you, we were ambushed! Look, why don't you just put the baby to bed?"

"Because if you're going to keep dropping lances on the floor and waking him up, there's no point!"

"_Please,_" the girl interjected earnestly. "I just want to talk."

Heath hesitated for a second, then took a step forward and picked up the lance, his eyes never leaving the woman. Once he had it securely in his grasp, he stepped back and lowered his blade. "All right. Sit down, and we'll talk."

His wife approached him. "Well, dearest, if you're sure you've got everything under control..."

"I do," he said, taking her hand in his. "Don't worry. If she wanted to attack me, she would have done so immediately. I'm not sure what she's here for, but I doubt it's to hurt me."

"How can you be sure?" she asked, concerned. "If she's from Bern, then she may be here about the bounty..."

"After all these years? I doubt it." He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You worry too much, my love. Take care of our child; I can handle this, whatever it is."

"All right," she sighed. "Just be careful. Your body may be aging, but I still like it enough that I don't want it hacked to pieces just yet." She kissed him cheekily before taking their son back into his room.

The girl gave Heath an odd look as he sat down across from her, but shook her head. "So, you are Sir Heath."

"I haven't been 'Sir' Heath in ages, young one." He sighed, then pursed his lips. "Hm. What is your name, anyway? I can't keep calling you 'young one' forever."

"My name is Miledy," she started, lifting her head proudly. "Captain of Princess Guinevere's royal guards."

"A royal guard?" Heath's eyebrows lifted. "Impressive, for one so young."

"Yes, well... I was just recently promoted." She lowered here eyes, and muttered, "Besides, I'm not _that _young."

Heath rested his head on one arm, studying the woman. "So what brings you here, Miledy? Obviously, you came looking for me, but if you aren't out to claim the bounty..."

"That is what brought me here, but I did not seek to claim any prize," she said. She hesitated before continuing. "Sir Heath, the... the bounty on you was dissolved quite recently."  
There was a brief silence.

"I beg your pardon?" Heath asked flatly.

"It was done quickly and quietly," she went on. "Really, it was so old by now that few would have been paying enough attention to spot it anyway. I only discovered it purely by chance; I was paging through some old records when I found the document pardoning you." She took a breath. "So I started researching you, trying to find out what I could. I learned that you, with some of your comrades, fled the Army of Bern a few months before the first attempt on then-Prince Zephiel's life. In fact, I have heard from... less than reputable sources that you were, in fact, journeying with a troop of Lycian origin that foiled that attempt."

Heath remained silent. Miledy searched his face for any sign of emotion, any reaction, but found none. Letting out a sigh, she continued. "Your situation—that of you and your comrades—was... somewhat interesting to me. You deserted the army, abandoned your homeland, yet now, so many years later, you were pardoned. I think..." She shifted uncomfortably. "I have some questions, and I think you're one of the few people who could answer them."

Heath nodded, obviously deep in thought. "Go ahead," he said distractedly.

She took a breath. "Well, for starters... do you have any idea why you were pardoned? Especially now, after all these years?"

He paused for a moment before looking up and matching her gaze. "Tell me, Miledy, do you know of the Wyvern Generals?"

"You mean the Dragon Generals?"

Heath frowned. "Yes, I suppose that is what they are calling them now..."

"General Murdock, General Brunya, and General Nacien." Miledy rattled off the names as if she were a young girl reciting her history lesson. "Each of them controls a division of Bern's army, and-"

"Yes, that's all well and good," Heath interrupted her. "But what I meant was, do you know of any past Generals? Specifically, a wyvern rider named Vaida?"

Miledy nodded slowly. "Yes... she was one of the last group of Generals. She..." she looked at him. "She escaped with you, didn't she? Or, rather, she delayed the army while you escaped..."

Heath didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "You serve at the palace, correct? Tell me... have you ever seen an older woman there, bright blonde hair, with a scar over one eye? Maybe someone who spends her time close to Zephiel, or at least trying to help him indirectly?"

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't believe I've seen anyone like that, no."

Heath nodded, lowering his eyes. "I see. Then the answer to your question is, I was pardoned because I abandoned King Desmond's Bern. This is King Zephiel's Bern, a much different place."

"Or so one would hope," Miledy muttered.

Heath lifted his head at those words. "I'm sorry?"

Miledy hesitated for a long time before speaking again. "Sir Heath, my... my other question was... why did you leave in the first place?"

Heath remained silent.

"You were part of an elite team," she continued, trying to prompt him to speak. "Vaida's Raiders, wasn't it? You were some of the most respected Wyvern Knights in the land. And one day, you just threw all that away. You left the army, you left Bern; only later were you spotted traveling with some Lycians, and now, years afterwards, you live as a mercenary here in Ilia. You had an illustrious future laid out for you in Bern; why did you leave?"

Heath looked out the window, watching the flurrying snow. "One day," he said softly, echoing her words. "Did we really have that much time? It felt more like a few minutes, maybe even a few seconds."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

He turned and fixed his gaze on her intently. "Do not think I threw away my loyalties to Bern lightly. I loved my nation; I still do. To be forced from my land by her own army, to suddenly have the nation that had nurtured me turn against me... that was unbearable. The situation called for action, and we took action; the only one available to us. The army of Bern was going to kill us, and so we ran."

"Turned against you...?" Miledy furrowed her brow, confused. "Your record says you defied orders..."

"As well it should," Heath sighed. "To some degree, we did. But those orders were... abominable. The men who handed them down knew we would refuse to carry them out. And they were ready. They named us traitors all, and the archers they had hidden around our position let loose. If Vaida had not stayed behind, baited them to her long enough for us to escape, we..." He shut his eyes. "_I_ never would have made it out of Bern alive."

Miledy shook her head, trying to absorb everything she was hearing. "...A trap?"

"One from which there could be no escape."

There was a moment of silence as they both contemplated the conversation. Heath finally spoke. "It was a different Bern then. King Desmond was being... influenced. He turned his back not only to his soldiers, but to his people—and his son." A small smile crossed his face. "I'm sure things are better under Zephiel, especially if Vaida is still around somewhere."

Miledy lowered her eyes. "I wish I could agree with you, Heath."

The older wyvern rider's smile vanished. "What do you mean?"

"The Zephiel you remember was a young boy. His father held no love for him, but he himself did love his sister, and his nation. But now, after two assassination attempts and taking the reins of the kingdom, he is... different, somehow. He's grown distant from Guinevere, and acts increasingly harsh toward his people and soldiers. I may just be overreacting, but..." She shook her head.

Heath slowly nodded in understanding. "This is why you came to find me, isn't it?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Those who fail to learn the lessons of history," he muttered. "Oh, Zephiel... we had such hopes for you..."

"I just don't know what to do," Miledy said. Heath noticed that her voice was wavering, and tears were beginning to well up in her eyes. "I came here because I hoped you would have answers."

"You came to the wrong place," Heath replied sadly. "I lost three—maybe four, now—of my closest friends when I fled Bern, and part of me fears it was all in vain."

They were both silent for a moment. Miledy tried to wipe away her tears before they could form.

Heath took a breath. "I can tell you this much," he started. "Loyalty to Bern does not have to mean loyalty to Zephiel. When a king becomes so fixed on his own goals, ones that are destructive to his own people, he is not fit to be king any longer."

Miledy looked at him incredulously. "How can you say that? A king _is_ his country. If I fail to show loyalty toward Zephiel, I'll wind up just like–" She cut herself off.

"Just like me," Heath finished.

She hesitated, then nodded guiltily.

Heath shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miledy. If your own country asked you to slay innocents—if the army you served so diligently one day decided to stab you in the back—you might understand. But until—I'm sorry, unless that happens, I can't help you." He stood. "I think you had best be going now."

She looked up at him imploringly. "Sir Heath, please..."

"Miledy," he said firmly, "I can tell you're a good knight. You'll serve Princess Guinevere well; that is your duty, and for now, you should fulfill it." He crossed over to her, and took her hands in his. "But if someday, you find yourself faced with a difficult decision, one that might call your loyalties into question, I want you to remember what we spoke about here today. Consider your options carefully, and you may find that what is best for Zephiel is not necessarily what is best for Bern."

Miledy hesitated a long time before replying. "I... OK. I'll... I'll consider it."

Heath nodded, satisfied. "Good."

She lowered her eyes. "Just thinking this, I feel like a traitor."

"I know," Heath said softly. "And I'm afraid nothing can be done to help that, until you find out what, exactly, you're betraying." He pulled her up. "I know my words weigh heavily on your heart, but... do you feel any better now that you've spoken to me?"

She smiled. "Part of me wishes I could say no," she answered. "But you... you have lessened the burden somewhat."

Heath smiled, relieved. "Good. You'd best be going, then." He saw her to the door. "Take care of yourself, Miledy. You're a good knight, and if Zephiel's really growing that distant from her, Guinevere may need as many of those as she can get."

Miledy nodded. "I would stay by her side always." She opened the door, and drew op her clothes against the wind. Luckily, the snowstorm was dying down by now. "Thank you, Sir Heath."

"Be safe," he responded, as she vanished out the door.

Heath watched her mount her wyvern and fly south, back towards their homeland again, before shutting the door. He closed his eyes. "You heard?"

His wife crossed over to him and put her arms around him. "I heard. Are you all right?"

"I think so," he sighed. "Everything is happening again. But something tells me it will be much worse this time."

She turned him around. "Heath, that's all behind us now. But..." she lowered her eyes. "But if you want to go...?"

He placed his hand under her chin, lifting her head. "I'll go wherever I'm needed," he said softly, "As long as I can be with you. We help the people now, not just the nobility."

Her eyes were glimmering slightly. "You won't go back? Not even for Vaida?"

"Vaida made her choice. I made mine." He put his arms around her. "You need not fear, my love. I'm not about to leave you for Bern... for anything."

She returned his embrace, sighing.

* * *

Galle was waiting for Miledy when she landed. He immediately took her in his arms. "You're all right?" he asked, concerned. "The cold didn't get to you?"

"I'm fine," she replied as they released each other. She smiled up at him. "I'm sorry to have worried you, I just felt it was something that needed to be done."

They started walking back to the stables together. Galle glanced at her. "I understand that you don't want to tell me what you were doing, but... did you at least find what you were looking for?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. In fact, I doubt it's anywhere to be found."

He cocked his head. "Eh?"

"Never mind," she said, smiling at him. "The answers weren't there, but I think that's just because I haven't figured out the right question yet."

He scratched his head. "...Someday, I hope to gain _some_ understanding of you, Miledy."

She laughed. "Yes... someday."


End file.
